Black Heart Machine watched as the trees that surrounded the base of the Peak began turning from bright green to a more yellow hue. Summer had come and gone, remaindering her that time pressed on despite her best efforts to will it into stasis. The Akhal-Teke mare was not getting any younger. With each day that passed she felt her muscles ache for longer than they used to and silver streaks scattered throughout her mane like the stripes of a decorated general. Yet it was not her advanced age that bothered or hindered her.

The Peak had entered into a lull, and Black Heart Machine’s restlessness had progressed into a furious agitation. They had peace, but not progress. It was a false peace, rendered as such by apathy and complacency—the ultimate enemies of progress. She was tired of waiting. She needed a plan. She had to act—now.

The dark mare ran with her head high and her neck outstretched, her impossibly long mane and tail flying out behind her like flags of war. In a way, they were exactly that. At this point, Black Heart Machine didn’t care if she had to start a war herself. Something needed to happen, and if she alone was the woman that had to make it happen then so be it. As she flew down the mountain, she blew by a cremello mare—one she had not yet seen.

Skidding to a halt and then wheeling around, her eyes wide and sincere, Black Heart Machine locked her gaze onto Dock and spoke with vehement purpose and conviction in every word.

“You!” she called to her. “Are you the sort who believes in progress? Do you see the world and dare to challenge the authority that seeks to oppress us at every turn?”

A thin layer of sweat lined Machine’s coat, her eyes shining with fervor. This time of stillness was over and the Vulcan codebreaker needed more sisters who would be willing to stand alongside her and not idly by.

BLACK HEART MACHINE